


Try Now, We Can Only Lose

by noordinaryperson



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Dr Crane is not a good doctor, I don't usually write in second person but this time I did, Jonathan Crane is not a nice person, Torture, forced injection, idek wtf this is, implied sex-aversion, it's kind of a mess but here you go enjoy, no graphic details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noordinaryperson/pseuds/noordinaryperson
Summary: You agreed to meet him in the basement after work.  It didn't go the way you had planned.
Relationships: One-sided Jonathan Crane/OC
Kudos: 9





	Try Now, We Can Only Lose

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't turn out the way I wanted it to, but I don't totally hate it, so I'm posting it. It hasn't been edited or beta-read, so forgive any errors there may be. I originally intended for this to be an Arkham!verse Crane, before he went rogue, but I think it's at a place where it could really be most other versions of the character too.

The hallway was dark, the brick walls cool and damp, the distant smell of mildew from an unseen leak assaulting your nostrils as you followed his instructions, following the wall until it stopped at a corner, then turning left. You could see light emanating from one doorway as soon as you did so, and knew that you had found him.

He had asked you to meet him here, his face as unreadable as ever as he told you he had something he wanted you to see, and you trusted him blindly, because why wouldn’t you? He had always been polite, if a bit distant, and you respected him for the genius he admittedly was. He had helped you with some difficult patients of your own, explained theories and concepts to you far better than your professors ever could have, made everything make more sense than you had ever thought possible.

And you adored him for it.

It was one of those shameful secrets you would never admit to anyone but yourself, but it was one-hundred percent the truth. You may have originally found him as strange and off-putting as everyone else around you did, but that had morphed over time into respect and admiration, and that into affection. And while you had never admitted this feeling to anyone-- you had scarcely begun to acknowledge it yourself-- it seemed as though he knew. You shouldn’t be surprised by that, considering the fact that it seemed as though he knew everything, but if he did know your little secret, he certainly wasn’t telling anyone else about it.

As you drew closer to the illuminated doorway, you became aware of the fact that there was music playing from within the room. You hadn’t known he liked music, but then again, most people liked music, so why wouldn’t he, apart from the fact that he wasn’t most people? Your ears strained to make out what musician he had deemed worthy of his attention as you drew steadily closer.  
Whatever he was listening to, it was older, you could tell that much for sure. It made sense, since he wasn’t exactly young himself. As you made it to the doorframe you realized that he had a rather old radio in the room, tuned to a classic rock station-- you had been struggling to determine what song he was listening to because there was a bit of static coming from the device.  
He was waiting for you, leaning against a rather tired-looking old desk. There was a chalkboard in the room, covered in some chemical formula you couldn’t even hope to begin to comprehend, and the desk was covered in countless sheets of paper, all covered in the doctor’s strangely neat scrawl.

He smiled when you entered the room, although the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes (much like always).

“I’m glad you could make it,” he told you, pulling away from the desk and gesturing to the chalkboard. “This is the culmination of all my research, the singular subject that I have sought to master since the day I realized what it was…”

You could hear the radio now, and the song had just changed. You hadn’t known he liked The Doors, but he was humming along with the opening organ riff of “Light My Fire” as he rummaged through the paperwork on his desk.

“This, my darling, is the chemical makeup of pure fear. Isn’t it beautiful?” 

You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered when he called you darling, focusing your attention on the equation he had scrawled on the board, the diagrams alongside it, the even handwriting. He had spent years on this, and the more you looked at it, the more you realized how entirely out of your league he was, how incredibly intelligent he must be to have deciphered such a complex chemical formula and reduced it to letters and symbols on a chalkboard… You were painfully aware of your own shortcomings in that moment, of how you wished you had studied harder in school, how you wished you had just applied yourself just a little more, taken more difficult classes…

You didn’t even realize he was next to you until he spoke again.

“Don’t bother trying to study it, you poor, stupid girl… I know you don’t know what it means.”

But no, that wasn’t him, that couldn’t be him speaking. This voice was so cold, so cruel, so unbelievably lifeless, was such an incredible contrast to the way he usually sounded… And how could he be so cruel? Had.. Had he just called you stupid?

As soon as you moved to turn towards him, you felt the needle sink into your arm, felt the sting of something chemical, a sudden, unexplained weight on your chest… Your eyes went wide with fright as you felt the anxiety start to overwhelm you. Crane brushed his fingers across your cheek, but the gesture wasn’t comforting at all.

“Did you think I brought you down here for some secret, forbidden tryst, you foolish child? Did you think that I would reduce myself to something so base as a carnal relationship? Did you truly believe, even for a moment, that even if I did want something so utterly repulsive, that I would choose you as a potential partner? How utterly self-absorbed you must be…”

He withdrew the syringe from your arm, watching you fall to the floor, a smirk flitting across his features.

“And a small wonder it is, too… No family, no real friends… You can see, I have done my homework… Enough so to know that you won’t be missed. And because you won’t be missed, you are the perfect test subject for my serum… A hallucinogen, capable of creating a powerful fear response within the body, triggering the mind’s eye to see it’s every nightmare spring to life… Tell me… What is it that you see?”

He stared at you, awaiting a response, but you could no longer speak; your mouth could only produce screams, your eyes streamed tears, your hands clawed at your clothing, your hair, grabbing, pulling, tearing….

He sighed. “...A pity. It seems I’ve given you too strong a dose. I must be more careful not to overdo it in future trials… I can see you’ll be of no more use to me.” He tossed the syringe into a drawer and headed for the door. “I’ll be back for you in the morning… If you’re still alive… To move you to the cells. No one will hear you screaming down here; this part of the asylum has been closed for the better part of a decade.” A sinister smile danced at the corners of his mouth as he spoke, and he flicked off the light, locking the door behind him as he left you alone with your nightmares.


End file.
